chapter eight

Matthew had still wanted to be a part of Somin’s investigation, despite the protocol against his participation because of their relationship. Luckily, department protocol didn’t account for the fact that the case’s connection to J.Seph made Matthew, with his history of tackling J.Seph-related crimes, the best person to be on the team . . . and that was all it had taken to convince Director Park to cover up the connection between Matthew and Somin; it was for the sake of the case.

The same was not true for Hongbin. It was too easy to call in a different medical examiner, so Hongbin’s presence was not required. Besides, with them being married, their relationship was harder for the department to ‘accidentally’ overlook—it was legally documented. This meant that contrary to his wishes, Hongbin was to stay far, far away from the case. Director Park had pressured Hongbin into taking two weeks off so that he could come to terms with . . . with Youngji’s death.

In order to make sure he stayed stable, Director Park had suggested—more like assigned—that Matthew essentially babysit Hongbin for that weekend. Matthew’s reaction was less dismal than the director had probably expected, probably because he could, to a certain extent, sympathize with Hongbin’s frustration and anger at not being involved.

Most of that Saturday, Hongbin stayed in the guest room, preferring to be alone. Matthew understood, so he didn’t try to invade Hongbin’s privacy or push him to interact. He had Jae and Jiwoo message him about any updates and email new files relevant to the case so he could look over them while at home. But he found it too hard to stay focused on the investigation at hand; his thoughts kept drifting to Hongbin’s outburst during the early hours of that day.

Matthew’s knowledge about the accident wasn’t exactly comprehensive since he was never directly involved—his only involvement was through Somin. But what he did remember, he knew he would never be able to forget—the police, the ambulances, the fire trucks, the lights, the sirens . . . the sirens had been so loud. Even now, just the sound made him uncomfortable, so he was glad he was a special investigations officer. Their unit was rarely first to respond to a crime scene, so the lights and sirens were generally unnecessary.

But as much as he hated sirens, he despised hospitals.

A crime scene, as horrific as it could be, was natural. In the cases Matthew and his team dealt with, these scenes were the results of the very real actions of another human. But a hospital? The wires, the needles, the beeping . . . and everything was so white, a stark, harsh, monotonous white. It was unnatural.

So many wires, they seemed to have no end. There were a few monitors hooked up to various machines, different numbers and lines in different colors conveying some kind of relevant information . . . Somin seemed to be drowning in the hospital gown and the sheets. She was so pale.

No, he was not going to relive those memories.

What if, at the end of this . . . that’s where you see her again?

Matthew took a slow breath. It was almost time for dinner, and since neither he nor Hongbin seemed to be in a mood to leave the apartment, he’d have to order takeout. His phone was on the other side of the coffee table in front of the sofa, though—just out of reach. He didn’t feel like getting up yet, so he sighed, leaning back in his seat, and glanced at the files still on the coffee table.

If, at the end of all of this . . . if Somin was in the hospital . . . honestly, he would be grateful. At least she would be back.

The next morning, while Matthew sat at the dining table with his laptop open, Hongbin had chosen to turn on the news in spite of Matthew’s advice to not, and that was when Matthew realized that it was already Sunday. Over a week had passed since Somin had been kidnapped last Saturday . . . and in the week since, so much else had happened.

And despite a whole week passing, there was still no evidence that she was still . . .

For all they knew, Youngji could’ve been the second victim—

Matthew stood up, his chair scraping loudly against the floor as he pushed it back from the table. Water seemed like a good idea. Hongbin didn’t look away from the TV; he continued robotically switching between the different news channels.

“—vise you to be alert of your surroundings and be wary of going out in later hours. Always report any suspicious acti—”

“—jung Offices closed until further notice. The area is under investigation as the site of not one, but two horrific murders, the latest in the series of murders that have been taking place in the Seoul area over the past week. The cause of this influx is unknown, but the investigation is ongoing, and—”

“—are currently no new developments, but friends and family of the victim have stepped forward to offer their thoughts on—”

Hongbin shut off the TV. Matthew didn’t complain; if Hongbin hadn’t shut that thing off, Matthew probably would’ve broken it.

As Matthew got a glass out of the cupboard, Hongbin spoke up. “Is this . . . normal?”

“Is what normal?”

“This . . . feeling. I feel . . . numb?”

Matthew closed the cupboard door. “Numbness can be normal. A part of shock.”

Hongbin shook his head. “But . . . I can’t believe it. It’s like—it’s like if I go home now, Y—” He took a breath. “It’s like she’ll still be there, and she’ll yell at me for coming back so late.”

Matthew didn’t know how to respond. He didn’t know how to relate, because if he was being honest, he wasn’t facing such a situation. Though there was no news about Somin, no news was better than bad news, and Matthew refused to imagine a scenario in which she didn’t come back.

The memory of Somin in the hospital flashed through his mind again, and even as he pushed the thought away, he remembered Hongbin’s words from the previous day.

“Neither of them were supposed to be hurt.”

“I ing saved Somin, damn it, but then I took the ing blame for it. She wasn’t supposed to get hurt again!”

Matthew cleared his throat to get Hongbin’s attention. “Hey . . . what you said yesterday . . . about the accident and—”

“Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t bring it up. I was rambling.”

“Hongbin, that did not sound like ram—”

“But that’s what it was, all right?” Hongbin said suddenly, standing up from the sofa. He ran a hand through his hair, making it more tousled than it already was. Letting out a deep breath, he spoke with a calmer voice. “Just . . . never mention it again. I don’t want to make it worse, and I don’t think you want to either.”

Matthew’s expression must’ve spoken volumes, because Hongbin held up a hand to stop him before he could respond. “I know you’re confused, but just let it be. It was my mistake, okay? Same as it always was.” By the end, Hongbin’s tone had turned bitter, and with that he left to lock himself in the guest room again.

Later that day, Matthew was in the middle of deciding whether to take a nap or convince Hongbin to step out and go to the gym with him when his phone vibrated. It was a call from Jae.

Grabbing his phone and taking a seat on the sofa, Matthew answered. “Hey, Jae—”

“I think you should stop by the station.”

Before Matthew could reply, Jae spoke again. “As soon as possible. And bring Hongbin if you need to, but get here fast, man.” He sounded like he was about to hang up.

“Wait, Jae, hold on.”

“Yeah?”

“What’s wrong? What’s going on?”

There was a sigh from the other end, and a few seconds of silence.

“Jae?”

“The fingerprint results came in.”

Matthew leaned back on the sofa. “That’s good. So we’ve identified suspects?”

There was the sound of Jae clearing his throat. “Matt . . . the fingerprints on the cup. They’re Somin’s.”

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It was her first year in college. Somin had been terrified—roommates, professors, courses . . . it seemed overwhelming, especially when she was fresh out of high school.

But she was worrying too much. Her roommate, Youngji, was easygoing and agreeable, nothing like the roommates from hell that blogs online had warned her about. The professors were . . . well, normal professors, but not the terrifying nightmare-fuel Somin imagined them to be. And the courses were harder, yes, but the workload wasn’t completely unmanageable.

Somin wasn’t quite sure about her major yet, but at the moment she was following a chemistry major. Her parents had balked when she brought up pursuing a music-related major, so she decided that chemistry wasn’t a terrible option. She was sure that, with enough studying, she could manage to pass the required courses . . . and maybe, at the least, minor in something music-related.

Since Youngji was also pursuing a major in chemistry, they typically went to the library, which was about a ten-minute walk from their dorm, to study together. But around mid-November, Youngji had gotten a cold and couldn’t head out to study, and since neither of them wanted Somin to also get sick, Somin stayed out of the dorm when she could . . . meaning heading to the library alone for study sessions.

Studying alone is normal, Somin convinced herself. Stop acting like an over-privileged brat.

It wasn’t as bad as she had thought it would be—no one bothered her. Heck, no one even paid attention to her, and it was perfect. Until about halfway through her study session, when she realized that the textbook she was referencing didn’t have the updated information that the professor covered in his lecture. With a sigh, she headed back to the textbook section, scanning for the shelves for a newer resource.

Somin quickly found an updated version of the same textbook—it was probably the one the professor was using for the new information. But there was one significant problem: it was way out of her reach.

She could use a chair, and that would probably help her reach it if she didn’t lose her balance while standing on it; but she was still nervous about drawing attention to herself. She looked on the lower shelves to see if anyone had misplaced another copy somewhere, but she had no such luck. Running a hand through her hair, she looked around . . . maybe she could ask another student if—

“Looking for something?”

Somin turned around a bit too quickly. It was a student, and a quick glance at the ID he was wearing indicated that he was currently working a shift at the library. Light caramel hair, attractive face . . . and tall, nearly a foot taller than Somin.

Regaining her train of thought, Somin pointed to the textbook. “Could you, um, get that for me?”

He glanced up to where Somin was pointing, and though Somin said nothing about her ability—or lack of—to reach it, she could tell by the way his lips curved upwards that he had come to that conclusion on his own.

She’d have to start wearing heels to the library. Great.

“Thank you,” she said, quickly turning away to head back to her table. She didn’t wait for a reply.

The professor had been hinting at a pop quiz sometime soon, so Somin wanted extra preparation just in case; this professor had a tendency for asking about the most minute details in his pop quizzes.

This also meant that Somin would be heading back to the library nearly every day, since the textbooks she was using couldn’t be checked out.

When she first headed back a few days later, she took the same old version of the textbook out of habit, but as she was walking to an empty table she remembered the updated version. Praying that someone would have left it on a lower shelf, she was dismayed to see it still up there, out of reach. With a sigh, Somin glanced around, and she was eyeing the chair at the empty desk nearby when someone cleared his throat behind her.

It was the same student from yesterday, this time with a small grin. “Need a hand?”

Somin laughed lightly, embarrassed. “Yeah . . . thanks.”

“No problem,” he said with a smile, easily reaching the textbook and handing it to Somin.

When Somin returned to her spot at the table, her cheeks still felt warm.

The next day, the textbook was still out of reach.

Curse the textbook, the publisher, whoever is organizing the shelves . . .

This time, instead of waiting for someone to help, Somin dragged a chair to the bookshelf. Standing on it, she was easily able to reach the textbook, but as she tried to pull it off the shelf from where it was wedged between the other textbooks, she felt the chair teeter below her. She forgot about the textbook and her hands reached out to grab the shelf for balance—but she didn’t need to.

Someone had already caught her by her waist, steadying her and keeping her from falling.

“Sorry,” he said quietly. The chair had already made a loud scraping noise against the bookshelf, and they were in the library after all. With no effort, he placed Somin back down on the floor, and then pushed the chair away to get the textbook himself. Somin could only stare, slightly slack-jawed, as he gave her the textbook she had been trying to reach. “I wouldn’t . . . the chairs here aren’t the newest,” he said, looking pointedly at the one Somin had just used.

Though she still felt incapable of having an intellectual conversation, Somin aimed to at least form a coherent sentence. “Oh . . . uh, thank you. Really.” A small laugh escaped her—why was she so awkward? “I think my life flashed before my eyes for a second there.”

“Same,” he said with a smile, and before Somin could question why, he held out his hand. “I—uh, I’m Matthew.”

She may have stared at his outstretched hand for a second too long while considering, but she nonetheless smiled back, taking his hand to shake. “Somin.”

“Somin.”

The voice was faded, distant, and she almost kept sleeping. But her heart began pounding in fear as a natural reaction, and a second later she recognized the owner of the voice. That thought dragged her out of whatever dream she was having.

Even with her eyes closed, she could feel the heavy weight of the cuff around her ankle. At least the room wasn’t cold like it had been during those few days.

She didn’t want to wake up. She didn’t want to—to help J.Seph with whatever he planned to—

But she had to. If she wanted to keep everyone she was close to safe . . . if she wanted to keep Matthew safe, then she knew she’d have to.

i felt bad so i added a bmin scene ... bm and somin's performances of "the way" during their tour were too cute, i think i have diabetes XD